Chapter 99
That evening, we make our way into the terminal at Haneda Airport. I'm somehow both water and not at all ready to leave Japan behind. I feel slightly sick as we walk through the crowded space, fake identities and one-way tickets to Hawaii in hand. Wake is a force beside me, looming with barely contained frustration. His muscles are coiled tight beneath his shirt, ready to spring. I can tell he hates this.
He leans in, his voice a low growl. “This is foolish. We could swim there faster.”
I stifle a laugh. “Yeah, and avoid what? Every shark, ship, and satellite between here and Hawaii? I’m almost positive the safest place on earth for us right now is to not be on earth at all.” I give him a quick grin, hoping to ease some of the tension, but it doesn’t land. His scowl deepens.
Hiro walks with us toward security, still looking like he can't believe we’re about to board a plane. He stops us just before we reach the line and pulls me into a hug. “You’ve got this,” he says, his voice low but full of sincerity. “Just...keep in touch, alright? Let me know as soon as you find her.”
I squeeze him tightly. “I will, Hiro. Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
He pulls back and flashes me a grin. “It’s been an honor, Phoebe. And don’t worry—I’ll keep trying to get in touch with Peter. Stay safe.”
I’m about to step back when Hiro opens his arms toward Wake. I expect nothing but a stony glare or, at best, a half-hearted nod, but to my surprise, Wake actually steps forward and gives Hiro a brief, awkward hug.
“I don’t like most humans,” Wake says gruffly as he steps back. “But you, Hiro, are a decent man.”
Hiro’s grin widens, practically splitting his face in two. “I’ll take it!”
We exchange final goodbyes, and Hiro waves us off as we make our way through security. The process is annoyingly tedious—lines, checks, more lines. But we get through without any trouble, our fake IDs holding up under scrutiny. At least for now.
By the time we finally board the plane and it takes off into the night sky, Wake’s tension has hit a breaking point. His hands are clenched so tightly that his knuckles are bone-white. He’s shut his eyes, and I can tell he’s trying to hold it together, but he’s barely hanging on.
“Wake,” I whisper, leaning over to touch his arm. “It’s okay. You can relax. We’re safe.”
He doesn’t open his eyes. “I’ll relax when we’re back on the ground,” he says through gritted teeth. “This...this is unnatural.”
I bite my lip, suppressing a laugh. His fear is genuine, and I don’t want to make light of it, but the thought of a hulking siren warrior, who has no issue swimming across oceans or fighting off predators the size of cars, being afraid of flying...it’s kind of adorable.
The cabin is dark, the soft hum of the engines barely audible over the snores of sleeping passengers. An idea suddenly hits me—a terrible, reckless, irresistible idea.
I unbuckle my seatbelt quietly and lean in closer to him, my voice barely above a whisper. “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.”
He finally cracks an eye open and gives me a suspicious look. “What?”
“You heard me,” I say, biting back a smirk. “Bathroom. Five minutes.”
He looks as if he’s about to argue but then, with a long-suffering sigh, he nods.
I stand, stretching my legs as casually as possible before walking down the narrow aisle toward the back of the plane. My heart races with anticipation, both from the thrill of sneaking around and from the fact that I’m about to be alone with Wake in a cramped space where tension has no choice but to break.
Once inside, I lock the door behind me, staring at my reflection in the tiny mirror. My face is flushed with excitement, and I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm my racing heart. The small bathroom feels even tinier in the dim lighting, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of what I’m about to do.
A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I open it just enough to let Wake slip in, his massive form taking up the entire space in an instant. The door shuts behind him, and suddenly we’re pressed together, barely an inch of air between us.
“You are unwell, woman,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. But there’s a glint in his eyes now, something other than the frustration that’s been brewing since we boarded.
“Maybe,” I reply, looking up at him with a grin. “But you’re not exactly helping, are you?”
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
